


the stars in their courses

by njckle, returntosaturn



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Earthling Jacob, Empath, F/M, Space AU, Telepath, bounty hunter Tina, fugitive Newt?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njckle/pseuds/njckle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/returntosaturn/pseuds/returntosaturn
Summary: “Danger exists on a relative scale, wouldn’t you say? It is based upon our intent and how that intent is perceived by others. It cannot be said that any being, sentient or otherwise, is inherently bad. It certainly must rely on motive, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Kowalski?”// spaceAU





	1. Chapter 1

Newt could count the number of times he’d made a trip to Earth on one hand and each time he found the same feeling of stupendous relief that he did not call this place home.

Its inhabitants had made their own minds up about what their planet should be, should function as, rather than allowing the natural rhythms of the land to guide them. And thus anything that could have been beautiful had been done away with. Digitized billboards and impractically large screens flashed their messaging non-stop, vehicles rushed by-- he would not even begin to remark on the insufficiency of the concept of _roads_ \-- weaving through buildings that took up too much space, and there were so many people that they had stooped to living atop one another rather than beside. The pungent smell was one that reminded him of the dirty and unruly port-cities on the less wealthier planets across the galaxy: the lingering stench of garbage infiltrated his senses and the pollution obstructing the atmosphere made him queasy.

The city was overbearing and overcrowded, a bland sprawl that attempted to be a shining beacon, something Newt found simultaneously interesting and repulsive.

Altogether, it made up a wholly illogical place.

Despite the unorganized mess the native people called a city, this did not justify the release of a foreign creature into their midst. It only inspired fear, as was the case in the incident he’d traveled here to resolve. He did not know who’d abandoned the beast to the streets of New York City and its veritable buffet of buildings, all apt for demolition by the blubbered, pink-tentacled creature currently wrecking a city block. But he was certain that it could not remain here. Not to the benefit of either party.

He disembarked his starship with a flourish of his cobalt greatcoat, his Wizit holstered to his side, the opposite hip harboring a dated but functioning blaster-- safety on, of course, for he had yet to fire it even once, but one should never be entirely defenseless. In one hand he gripped an armored briefcase, its metal shell battered and scratched through years of these same such episodes.

He gave no thought to concealing his transportation. If the pink blob was any indication of life apart from Earth, the presence of his ship should be no surprise to these people. Besides, the noisy job of  landing atop the roof of whatever type of high-rise he was currently standing on, residential or commercial, had likely shaken the building’s inhabitants from their spots.

A glance over the edge confirmed this, for gathered around the great monster, its legion of flailing limbs grappling of their own accord, was a mob of dismayed and shrieking humans. Some pelted the beast with objects. Newt winced when a wooden chair bounced easily off the back of the creature’s fleshy, eyeless skull.

Of course he knew from observing the scene, watching the creature’s mannerisms, exactly what humans never could quite understand. The creature’s terror wasn’t motivated by a thirst for destruction, but spurred by its own confusion. Panic and fear, but not anger. A reaction to its abandonment on this alien terrain and a desperate search for something familiar.

Seeing that no more time was wasted in rescuing the beast, Newt lifted his free hand to his wrist, calibrating his Teleporter and concentrating hard at the image of the shattered sidewalk and crunched cars below. He didn’t flinch at the familiar pinch and snap of being bodily transported from one spot to another. When he blinked open his eyes once again, he had alighted into the midst of the mob itself, at the very foot-- or rather feet-- of the frightened creature.

It towered roughly eight stories above with innumerable fat feelers wriggling and ramming into any building, choking around any car it could reach, the sidewalk and street already demolished under its weight, a plume of dust surrounding it like some formidable halo.

Newt watched it clamp vice-like jaws around the side of an already crumbling building, the weak Earth metal unable to hold up against the hardness of the creature’s row-upon-row of jagged teeth.

“Right then. First thing’s first, my friend,” Newt said reassuringly, however rhetorically, reaching to retrieve the Wizit from its holster. He flicked a few of its many buttons, thumbing a dial into place on the polished, cylindrical surface.

He reached for a cartridge at the back of his belt and deftly slid it into its chamber before he aimed the barrel up towards the sky and flicked a final switch.

Bright blue gas bloomed brilliantly in the air and expanded across the breadth of the block. A resounding shriek arose from the surrounding throng of humans. The Wizit, a device of his own making and shaped much like the hilt of a sword, gave an electric hiss on recoil.

The smoke was designed to smell differently to each entity. To some creatures it was the tang of dust, the subtle essence of the atmosphere from their home planet. To others, food. To Newt, it smelled of the heady scent of black tea and fresh biscuits with his mother’s jam.

Momentarily, he wondered of its effects on the onlookers, but the thought was moot, as most all of them had fled at the release of this unexpected, foreign cloud and the appearance of this alien escort or warden or whatever they perceived him to be.

As anticipated, the creature calmed, ceasing its trashing and instead swayed transfixed, tentacles akimbo and curling lazily at empty air. Newt made sure he was clear of the few automobiles that fell from its relaxed grip.

“Wonderful. Simply wonderful. Now…” He glanced about, gripping his case with both hands.

Only one man remained of the crowd. A portly gentleman with dark hair and a neat moustache, too round for his rumpled suit, gaping up at the creature with a beaten brown briefcase clutched in one thick fist. Whether he'd intended on using the weight of the item to beat off the monster or simply had been about an errand, Newt wasn't sure. Nor did it matter at present when he shoved his own case into the man’s chest and the other slipped from his grasp. The man clutched at the cool metal instead and fixed stunned, unblinking eyes on Newt.

“Hold this, please,” Newt instructed. “And don't open it until I say so…” He flashed a polite smile at the man before turning his attention again to the dazed creature looming over them.

He pointed his Wizit to the sky once more and pressed, emitting only a small spurt of the blue gas this time, letting it dissolve to a thin mist above his head. An untrained eye wouldn’t have seen any indication that the beast had responded, for the ominous, coral-colored creature had no eyes of its own. Rather, it loomed forward a bit, roiling towards him on fleshy feelers, testing and seeking.

Another puff of gas, and Newt crouched low, waiting.

The creature coiled forward, over the disintegrated asphalt and Newt pressed again, keeping the scent low this time. He stepped back as the creature slithered closer, its gaping mouth leveled with him, the pungent smell of its breath hitting him straight on. He refrained from gagging.

He turned his head over one shoulder, ready to address the man he’d entrusted with his case.

There it sat, wide open and prone in the middle of the street. Only a short distance from it, the man’s stout figure rolled about on the cement, hands flailing and struggling at the prickly, pink body of an escaped Murtlap, currently attempting to plant its teeth around the man’s carotid artery.

“Bugger,” Newt sighed wistfully before turning his gaze back to the goliath beast at hand. He did not wish to disturb the calm he’d struck, even as the man yelped almost comically and the Murtlap snarled behind him. “We must be quick about it, then. Into the case. Come on…”

He drew a circle of the blue gas about the open lid of the case, and the beast lurked even closer.

Its tentacles were close enough now to dip into the deep blackness the case exposed, slipping deeper and curling about its edges until the creature’s mass dwarfed the case, its weight spilling over laughably as it tried to slip inside.

“Lovely. Bit more. Bit more…” Newt encouraged. Slowly, the creature sunk down, shrinking and shrinking until, finally, the destroyed street was devoid of the portentous pink terror, its spongy body ensconced safely inside the bolstered steel of the case.

Newt snapped it shut but did not set the latches. Instead, he clamped it under one arm and dashed to where the human was still writhing against the rogue Murtlap, hissing shrilly with its spikes ramrod straight.

Easily, he plucked the creature up by one bony, stumpy back leg, slung it into the case and snapped it shut again in one quick motion.

“So sorry…” Newt murmured, flicking the latches in place with twin clicks while the man rolled onto one side, two thick fingers poking at a spot on his neck just below his ear, eyes still wide and pupils blown with adrenaline.

Newt leapt to his feet, case securely in his grip. The human gave a pained groan and worked to his feet as well. His complexion seemed a bit pale, a little waxen, but then Newt was no expert on homosapien physiology. Earthens were a strange species, one he hadn’t bothered to research fully.

“What the hell was _that_ ? What are _you_ ? _Who_ , I mean…” the man sputtered, his small, moustache-framed mouth gaping openly while he regarded him, no doubt taken aback by the web of thin, bronzey colored markings that might’ve resembled a mermaid’s scales covering Newt’s temples and throat.

“The big one was a Centaculum,” Newt practically gulped, suddenly deflated and self-conscious, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck. He’d never quite appreciated the mark of his species, so out in the open where anyone, strangers even, could see. “The small one, a Murtlap. And I’m Newt. Newt Scamander.”

“A mur… what?” The man shook his head, his hand making its way to the small wound again. “And it just…”

“Again, sorry about that. I must get that latch fixed.” He reached about for his Wizit again, fumbling at the dials. “Now, if you’ll just stand there, this will only take a jiffy… Whoa, steady on!”

The man swayed forward, looking much like a Troll he’d met on some other distant planet, though much smaller and probably half as dangerous. Newt was quick to wrap one slender hand around his upper arm, keeping him upright.

“You...do not seem well. Murtlap bites aren’t serious, I assure you,” Newt rambled futily, haplessly as the human moaned and groaned and gave a great, empty heave, head lolling.

There was no one around, not a single soul to dump this Earthling on. He craned his neck, searching through the debris for something that might tell him of wherever the man came from, only to find nothing. The block was utterly ravaged.

He barely managed to catch the man when his knees suddenly gave out.

“Whoa. You’re alright,” he said unhelpfully, uncertain of what else could be done, with an antsy Centaculum encased in one hand and a peaky Earthling on another. “Perhaps, erm…Perhaps there is something aboard my ship that might....”

Another heave. “This is all just some big nightmare, right?” the man panted while Newt worked to wrap an arm through his, balance the case, and tap at the buttons of his Teleporter all at once. Newt was once more unaffected by the customary squeeze, but the human yelped aloud, the sound of it cut short at the flash of their disappearance, and the ruined street was left empty and silent.

* * *

 

The starship was not difficult to visualize and needed no point of reference to teleport to. After all, it had been his home for nigh on a year. He knew every inch, every corner, by now.

They appeared in a teetering tangle in a cramped med-bay, Newt weighed down by the human’s heavy grip, trying to keep him on his feet through the daze of teleportation and whatever malady he’d contracted from the Murtlap. He managed to ease the man down onto the lone med-bed, leaving him to slump forward bonelessly.

He turned to rummage about for the necessarily items, plucking through cluttered, overstuffed cabinets. “What is your name?” he asked, if only to assure that the man remained responsive.

“Kowalski,” the man huffed after a few heavy pants. “Jacob Kowalski.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kowalski.” Newt unscrewed the lid from some abhorrently green paste, took a dollop onto his finger, and turned promptly toward his patient.

Mr. Kowalski went wide eyed again and gave an uneasy sound.

“Stay still,” Newt chastised gently, swiping at the spot then working quick to apply a clean, self-adhesive bandage. “That should stop the sweating.”

He turned briefly to retrieve a fat, foil packet with a tubular spout poking from one corner and held it out, nodding in indication. Jacob hesitated, hand outstretched.

“Water,” Newt supplied evenly, waiting until the man could find no argument and took the packet before he turned away again to sift out a white pill, then a powdery blue one, and deposited them both in Jacob’s palm. “One of those should sort the twitch.”

Jacob’s shock and frenzy had worn to a quiet uncertainty. Even so, he shrugged at the pair of pills and tossed them back, followed up with an audible gulp of water.

“So…” he spoke after a moment or two, voice thin with effort. “You’re an alien or something?” he asked, obviously curious with no malice or fear in his tone.

Newt only nodded. “I suppose that’s what Earthlings would call my kind, yes.”

“And that thing? Those....?”

“They are creatures. A slight distinction, if you will. They meant your planet no harm. Unfortunately, the Centaculum was set loose as a cruel joke by someone very ignorant. I suppose I should apologize on their behalf, although I am ashamed at the need to. Some see Earthlings as lesser beings; gullible and easily teased. The Murtlap, now that was my fault.”

He busied about tidying the counter, tossing away the wrapping from the bandage.

“You… rescue these… creatures?”

“Yes. Rescue, nurture, protect them.” He turned full on towards the man, worrying his thumb against his forefinger.

“Are they all so…?” Jacob started, then blinked, gulped, and looked suddenly bashful.

Newt smirked. “Destructive?” he provided knowingly. This was common misconception he’d encountered many times before, even from his own people.

At this moment, a little leafy head poked from Newt’s collar, chirring curiously. Jacob’s gaze flicked down to the little, twig-like creature and his eyes glinted boyishly, going momentarily wide.

“Oh, hello, Pickett. Meet our new friend, Mr. Kowalski.” Newt took the creature in hand, its clawed feet like roots gripping around the edge of his palm. Pickett crooned, regarding the human with his expressionless, beady eyes before wriggling around to look up at Newt as if expecting explanation of this stowaway.

“Pickett is a Bowtruckle. Very peaceful creatures unless provoked. They defend a singular tree for the entire lives. However, they’ve been endangered on their native planet due to the destruction of their habitats for colonization. Quite strong little things; their arms and legs can extend up to ten meters, and withstand the weight of five tons.”

Pickett peered again at Jacob with interest, teetering at the end of Newt’s thumb, as close as he would allow himself.

“Hiya,” Jacob proffered, and Pickett skittered away, beelining up Newt’s arm to his shoulder, and disappearing beneath his collar once more. Newt smiled warmly and gave his pocket a little pat.

“He’s a bit shy,” he defended, and went on, returning to their conversation. “Danger exists on a relative scale, wouldn’t you say? It is based upon our intent and how that intent is perceived by others. It cannot be said that any being, sentient or otherwise, is inherently _bad_. It certainly must rely on motive, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Kowalski?”

Jacob blinked, seeming to truly consider this, but before he could formulate a reply, the high-pitched pinging of an alarm sounded about the ship.

Newt sprang into action, glancing about wildly before sliding out into the corridor where the cockpit was perfectly visible. “Oh bugger. We’ve got to go.”

He plucked the emptied foil packet from the man’s hand and tossed it into the bin, wrapped a hand around one thick elbow, but Jacob was steady enough now to stand on his own.

He pulled away. “Wha--? Go? No. I can’t do that...You gotta take me…”

But Newt was already gone, heavy boots echoing the rhythm of a run while Jacob lingered, staring after him in the blue-ish glow of the corridor.

“Come on,” Newt called, already strapped into the pilot’s seat, flicking at switches and buttons overhead.

Through the wide, angled windows framing the cockpit, what could only be called an armada of starships had descended, spanned across the cloudless sky, dark gold specks spread in a patternless but no doubt deliberate formation.

“Come on!” Newt shouted, louder and sharper, his blue coat now slung carelessly across the co-pilot’s seat. He glanced back to see Jacob scramble forward, stumbling across the short expanse of corridor before flopping into the jump seat diagonally across from and behind his own seat.

“Buckle in,” Newt instructed, shoving some heavy-handled fader forward, and Jacob muttered something he didn’t get to hear. Engines whirred and roared, settling to such a deafeningly high pitch that Newt had to shout over it when he spoke again.

“Here we go!” He pushed another lever, and the ship rose, levitating in its spot a moment before inching up and up even as Jacob still fumbled at the straps of the harness. The ship dipped slightly then whirred with new speed, the hull rumbling with the force of it, but still Jacob’s harried curse was audible over it.

Newt smirked over his shoulder as the man braced himself, planting hands to the edges of his seat, watching wide-eyed through the window as the glinting horizon of New York City fell from view and the starship charged not away but _towards_ the gathered squadron before them. The silvery zip of gunfire from their contenders was seen rather than heard above the thunder of engines and thrusters, causing Jacob to give an inarticulate, cautioning yelp. Newt remained unphased, pulling back sharply on the wheel between his hands and the ship lurched into a new trajectory, ratcheting up speed until Jacob was sure they must be entirely vertical, perpendicular to the curve of the earth and zooming up, up, up into thick blue.

* * *

 

“This is Red 374 to Gold 573. Do you copy?”

The woman in question shifted, lifting her heavy-booted feet from the edge of the control panel they’d been propped against and eased her seat into an upright position. She swiped at the lingering crumbs on her shoulder before answering.

“I hear you, Red. What do you got for me?”

“Some rinky-dink cargo ship headed your way,” the garbled, male voice supplied from the com above. “About a quarter-kilometer out. 123, mark 27. Better hurry; they’re barreling fast. I’ve already picked up signals indicating some kind of contraband onboard. The Feds just deployed a shitload of Obliviators down there. I don’t know what the hell happened, but I bet this is their guy. You got it?”

“Roger,” she said, leaning over to fire up the thrusters, a high whine piercing through the cab. “I’m on to ‘em. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Goldstein,” he answered, and the com beeped, indicating dead air.

She shoved the wrappings from her alchemical hot dog aside and gripped the throttle, steering her ship from the spot it’d been hovering in. At the same instant, her suspect whizzed past her starboard side, a dull yellow streak against endless black.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she murmured, determined, throttling forward, engines booming their accordance and her small, outdated cruiser surged after them, full speed.


	2. Chapter 2

Their haste had slowed once they were well clear of Earth’s orbit. Now they coasted through flat black dotted in distant white, passing by each of the planets that made up the Solar System, the scant portion of outer space that humans had thus far explored. Aside from Jacob’s earlier lapse and his minor scare over the momentary weightlessness before the artificial gravity was engaged—that had made his face slide to quite an unnatural shade of green—all was well. No pursuants, all systems functioning and firing properly. 

Newt welcomed Jacob to wander the ship freely, and it was probably telling of his condition that the first thing he did was grab another pouch of water to sip from before joining Newt at the cockpit in the co-pilot’s seat.

He could’ve snooped about in any corner of the ship, and Newt would not have minded in the slightest. There weren’t any creatures left outside of the dimensions of the case. He found it much more humane and safe to corral them to their invented habitats rather than enclose them in compartments aboard the ship. It kept them happier and hidden. But there were plenty of other things to meddle in: old versions of his gadgets, an expansive lab—at least expansive for its only crew member—converted from one of the larger bays, sectioned off into different areas of study from venoms to Osteology. Instead, Jacob chose to remain in his company. Quite strange for a human, Newt considered.

Theseus had paid for a top-of-the-line ship, Newt had learned in the beginning of his year-long expenditure—though it had lost its shining look sometime between then and now. Scratches and minor dents covered the main hull and ran along its underside, and Newt was sure that the left wing was offset after that incident with the Nundu a few months ago. The interior was another matter entirely, layered with scorch marks from his experiments and less than normal inventions, overflowing with scrap metal he'd found during his trips, as well as different species of plants he decided to take along with him to study their potential uses. The luxury cruiser was a survivor, Newt had to admit. It almost made him feel a little guilty for stealing the vessel from his own brother in the first place.

Newt let the thrusters rest, coasting now through open space, course undetermined. He wasn't exactly certain what to do or where to go now with such a traveling companion accompanying him.

Other galaxies, other planets even, did not tend to pose a kind attitude towards Earthlings. Not to mention, Newt did not exactly have a home in the traditional sense of the word. Neither his parents’ estate on his home planet, nor Theseus’ home could count as his own. He hadn’t visited either in over a year and had hardly touched land since. The few instances he’d done so were only to make repairs, replenish supplies, or rescue a beast.

While he tried to work out this particular predicament, Jacob was watching the inky sea they now sailed through with quiet intrigue, mouth set in a small ‘O’. Newt let him take in the sight.

“Wonderful, isn't it?” he said, leaning away from the controls to let them pilot themselves.

“It's something,” Jacob replied. “Kinda spooky though, if you think about it too long.”

Newt only smirked. “Don’t think about it as floating through nothingness. Picture it as one of your oceans. It’s rather like that. It’s both actually...nothing and  _ something _ all at once.”

Jacob resumed his watch with a new, curious twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“What do you do on Earth, Mr. Kowalski?” Newt asked, considering this a perfectly amicable conversation to entertain. After all, humans loved small-talk, or so he understood.

“Eh. I’m… sort of in between gigs right now I guess you could say. I was on my way home from a meeting at the bank… seeing about a loan, but I don’t think it's going to pan out.”

Newt watched the way his shoulders arched low, his chin ducked downwards, even as he kept a certain glint of optimism in his tone. Something was wrong.

“A loan? As in money?” The man nodded, so Newt went on. “For what?”

“A bakery. It's all I’ve wanted to do since… well, since forever. Open my own place using my grandma’s recipes. Maybe make some new ones. Just see all the usual customers, get to know ‘em. That kinda thing… It might be an old-fashioned idea to some, but it makes people happy.”

It was a simple sort of dream. One that seemed altogether honorable and true. “So, why is it that you shouldn’t get the money?”

Jacob shrugged one shoulder. “I dunno. Guess I stayed in the army too long.”

“A war? You fought in a war?”

“Sure. Didn’t really have a choice. It was that or keep trying to make ends meet. Turns out I still try and make ends meet.” Jacob lifted his chin, looking his way. “What, they don’t have wars in outer space?”

Newt’s mouth drew into a thin line. “Of course they do. Any plane whereupon species attempt to co-exist, there is room for war. Space  _ is  _ a war, Mr. Kowalski.”

This notion did not need considering, for one of the two of them knew it to be true, and the other could certainly believe it.

The man nodded understanding. “Well, I say if we all gotta be here together, we should probably make the most of it. No sense wasting the time we have.”

Newt smiled, rare in its fullness. “A beautifully simplistic notion, Mr. Kowalski, and one that I wholeheartedly agree with.”

The man returned the smile in kind and, strangely enough, extended his hand to the open space between them. “Call me Jacob.”

Newt stared, confused, until Jacob nodded to his hand and then his own. Newt blinked. Of course. This odd, Earthen gesture called a ‘handshake,’ common in the accordance of striking a deal or even more simply, a friendly greeting. He reached up, clasping Jacob’s palm in his, letting Jacob govern the force with which they shook.

Certainly this must be some right of passage on their planet; the exchange and offered use of informal names. Newt was thankful for the directive. Up until now, he had not been entirely sure that he’d been managing their exchange properly.

“And you may call me Newt,” he reciprocated, giving a polite nod off Jacob’s amused smirk when their hands fell back to their sides.

But there was no more time for further discourse when a loud, incessant pinging sounded from above and the feminine, if artificial and monotone voice that spoke for the mainframe sounded a warning: “An unauthorized vehicle is attempting a manual docking maneuver at the starboard port. Soft docking: complete.”

“What? No. Stop,” Newt rose sharply from his seat, turning towards the entrance of the cockpit. “Don’t let… Disengage!” he finally managed, the tips of his ears gone red with something very much like outrage. His instruction was too little too late, the solid  _ thuds _ of the outer clamps reverberating through the ship, followed by the hiss of the pressure stabilizers echoing down the corridor.

“Unable to comply,” the mainframe replied unhelpfully. “System compromised.”

Newt ducked to his knees beneath the jump seat where Jacob had been seated during their takeoff, and fished out the armored case he’d stashed there in his haste to leave Earth. He threw open a hatch between the pilot and co-pilot’s spots, just big enough to fit the depth of the case within, laid it inside, and locked the compartment closed with a key drawn from within his sulfur-colored undercoat.

“Docking start,” the computer said, unnaturally chipper.

“Bugger.” Newt threw a look at Jacob, and they gaped at one another for a moment or two before Newt leapt away again, reaching for the blaster still holstered to his side and scurrying in a crooked run down the corridor.

He hurried down to the main level, bypassing his living quarters, to jump down the remaining steps to the ship’s cargo. Footsteps heavy, he nearly skid over the slick floors when he stopped in front of the barrel of a brightly lit corridor, and at its end, the blank and waiting expanse of the thus unopened hatch.

“Hard dock: complete. Seals engaged. Docking: complete.” The voice gave its final precursors, then there came a great clamor of banging and the grating crank of the locks releasing one by one on the opposite side of the hatch. Newt shielded his blaster behind his body and out of sight.

The hatch gave with a great shove, and one battered boot stepped through the hole, followed by a willowy leg clad in black, the shining gunmetal of a blaster in one slender hand, and then the face of a woman, fringe clipped straight across her forehead, the rest of her dark hair cropped over her ears, brows drawn together in threat of a fight.

“Hands up!” she barked, the besetting pitch of her voice betraying her projected countenance as she hoisted the blaster up to eye level and planted her feet. She zeroed in on where his hand was settled on his own weapon. “Hey! I said hands up!”

“Don’t shoot!” Jacob begged feebly from behind Newt’s shoulder, surprising him. He assumed he'd left him in the cockpit—he'd  _ hoped _ the man would've stayed there, out of the way and hidden.

They complied with her order, even as Newt spoke. “What’s the meaning of this? Who do you work for? The IFCC?”

“Who’s asking?” she reciprocated, still eyeing them from behind her raised weapon, gaze flicking between him and his stowaway.

“I don’t intend on being insolent, I’m sorry, but I did ask you first.”

She slowly lowered her gun to point at his chest rather than his face and, there, at the crest of her upper lip, a line of a yellow something-or-other was bright in the drab grey of the passage.

“Does the name  _ Gnarl _ ack ring a bell?” she asked, taking one step forward.

“Gnarlack? That old codger is still around?”

The woman twitched one dark eyebrow up in warning.

“What I mean to say is—so sorry, but you’ve got something on your…” Newt started, reaching forward with one fine-boned finger. She gasped at this and lifted the business end of her weapon once more. Jacob gave an audible gulp. Newt wondered, perhaps, if it was an aversion to being touched that had stirred her reaction, and not a reflex driven by her training.

“Should’ve known it was a  _ snake  _ I was catching,” she grumbled, one dark eye roving over his telltale markings.

“Now, there’s no need for name calling, I’m afraid, if you’d like me to come quietly,” Newt said, unable to stop himself from infusing his tone with just a bit of steel.

Some level of remorse passed through her features and she lowered the weapon again, but only a little.

“So what are you, some kind of bounty hunter?” he asked. She nodded, jutting a proud chin forward.

“I tracked you all the way from right outside of Earth’s orbit. I heard about the fleet of Obliviators they sent down. Any idea what that was all about?”

“I really couldn’t say,” he answered coolly.

“Who’s this guy?” She gestured with her free hand, giving Jacob a cursory glance. “You picked him up down there? That’s rich.”

“He was injured. I wasn’t going to leave him. He needs medical attention. Food, actually, would do him well.”

“I guess he’s the contraband my informant picked up.” Newt glanced to Jacob on this particular comment, but he seemed nonplussed. “You got a name?” the woman asked.

“Scamander,” Newt offered.

“Scamander… wait,  _ Newt _ Scamander?  _ Really? _ ” Her expression brightened with interest, and Newt tried hard not to give a roll of his eyes at the irony of not being mistaken for his elder brother in this particular case. “I’m taking you in,” she said with finality, stepping forward while brandishing a glinting pair of cuffs. “Cease any and all courses you’re set for.”

Newt cleared his throat. “I believe there’s a code among you and your comrades that states you may not incriminate those outside of the Federation’s jurisdiction if the infraction occurred outside of their reach,” he said hurriedly. “Seeing as Jac… er… Mr. Kowalski here is not a citizen of the Intergalactic Federation of Cosmic Cooperation, you may not take seizure of my ship while he is aboard.”

“What?”

“Furthermore, your code also states that you may not seize those in physical harm, injury, or illness. Mr. Kowalski also meets these qualifications, I believe.”

The woman stared, confused, before realization hit. She set her jaw, shaking her head in what he assumed was anger. “Why, you…”

Newt shrugged, not at all sorry. “You know I'm right. Can't do anything about it.”

“That doesn't stop me from taking  _ you _ in.”

Newt stepped away when she came closer, brandishing the cuffs again.

“I was merely aiding Mr. Kowalski. I doubt your supervisors would approve of you taking your target into custody and leaving the human he was harboring abandoned and without a safe route home.”

He watched, a little too triumphant, as her face flashed from angry to annoyed, a flicker of embarrassment perhaps at being bested by her own suspect. After a breath, she looked back up to him, eyes narrow, hard and unyielding. She snapped the cuffs back onto her holster.

“ _ Fine _ . But what are you going to do with an Earthling at a time like this? You can’t land anywhere and expect no one to notice. Some aren’t as honoring of the code,  _ Mr. Scamander _ .”

He wondered what she meant by ‘a time like this.’ Was she referring to the no-doubt hefty sum of money set for his head? The scuffle back on Earth? Or could there be something else?

“Yes, well, that was my current predicament,” he admitted, blinking down to his boots. “It would be dangerous to dock anywhere.”

“You say he needs food and medicine?” she said, looking at least a little bit wound down now. Her blaster was pointed at the ground and Newt lowered his arms, cautious. She set her sights on Jacob, who tensed in his spot.

“Is he lying? Do you need food? What about medicine?”

He looked at Newt, confused. “I have no idea what she's saying.”

“Ah,” Newt said, because really, he should have considered this. “He doesn't understand you. He doesn't have a translator on and you haven't calibrated with his language.”

The woman huffed. She played with the calibrator on her wrist before putting it right in Jacob’s face.

“What is she—” he started, only to be interrupted by the high-pitched beep from the tech.

“Better?” the woman asked.

Like all previous displays of their technology, Jacob looked comically astounded at the sudden comprehension. “Uh, yeah…”

The woman jerked her head in Newt’s direction. “He says you need food. Is he lying?”

“…uh…” Newt gave a meaningful look behind the woman’s shoulder. “…no?”

Judging by the woman’s expression, it looked as if she would have preferred that he'd been lying. Instead, she grumbled something under her breath and holstered her blaster.

“In that case, we need to get you somewhere you won't get blasted on sight. I know someone who can help. This way to the cockpit?” She pointed up the narrow length of ladder over Jacob’s shoulder.

Without waiting for confirmation, she scaled up and through to the above level, leaving Newt and Jacob blinking befuddled at one another as she went.

After a few moments, Newt shook himself back to the present, his eyes boring holes into the rungs where her hands had gripped. He gave a fortifying clear of his throat before hitching his way up the ladder, his companion following close behind.

When they rejoined her, she was already seated primly in the pilot’s spot in the cockpit, swiping surreptitiously at her mouth with the sleeve of her grey longcoat.

“Excuse me, but where are you taking us exactly?” Newt managed politeness even at the sight of her flicking switches and jabbing buttons.

“My place,” she said, looking over the controls. Soon the coordinates were locked in, the Northern Galaxy marked as their destination.

“Lunophra,” he said, looking at the interactive screen from over her shoulder. He'd heard of the planet but had never visited it himself. His mother had once talked about her own experiences with its people, but he couldn't remember what set them apart from the many humanoid species that inhabited the universe.

Whatever their peculiarities might be, it was clear to him that he couldn’t let his guard down. He doubted somehow that this was merely a friendly offer. He knew the price on his head, and he knew others of her kind that would do anything they could to seize it. Her change in motive was curious and strange for someone of her profession. He, and his new companion, would most certainly cut and run as soon as an opportunity was presented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [allscissorsallpaper](http://allscissorsallpaper.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.
> 
> Co-written with [njckle](http://njckle.tumblr.com).


End file.
